


A Royal Affair

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-02
Updated: 2009-08-09
Packaged: 2019-01-19 15:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: 'Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown' - Shakespeare.  The story of James and Lily in another place, another time.  Pre-Founders fluff fest, AU, features MWPP in a different light.





	1. Duty Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

This is the original version of _A Royal Affair_ , dreamed up when I was 16 years old and completely engrossed in the marriage of Crown Prince Frederik of Denmark to Australian 'commoner' Mary Donaldson.  I can't say I'm proud of this - re-reading it makes me blanch far too often, and I wish I could go back to when I was writing this to ask myself: _why?_   But, apparently, some people liked the original version in all its cringe-worth glory, so here it is.

I do plan on a retelling of this story. It will be so completely different it probably won't be a re-write at all, but I'm determined. I don't have a title yet, and I've only scratched out the first few chapters, but again: determined.

So, if you like your fluff served sunny-side up, look no further ...

;)

&&&

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.  
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

 

**\-  Chapter One:  Duty Bound -**

 

_The grass is always greener on the other side._

Throughout life, people dream of a different life - of a life that would be much better than the life they are currently leading. Anything would be better than what they have. Dreams of sugarplums and golden sunsets fill their heads, taking over their fantasies like fool's gold overcomes the desperate miser. Like all fantasies, though, they are bound to be broken by the realisations of reality.

The sugarplums and golden sunsets are pushed aside as we continue with our lives, making best of our current situations. Every piece of gold scrimped and saved will be worth it - every aching muscle used to achieve that hard-fought-for piece of gold will be savoured; it won't be taken for granted and it won't be wasted.

Fortune rarely smiles on those whose lives allow for the collision of both worlds: the fantasy and the reality.

The richest man in the land could have all the luxurious possessions his body longs for, yet the gold, so willingly spent on someone to peel his grapes, does not buy him what his heart longs for.

Prince James, the royal heir apparent, has more than enough gold at his disposal to drown himself in, yet, he is by far the happiest man in the land. While the beggar on the streets dreams for glimmering pieces of gold, James dreams of freedom, of choice. He could easily give the beggar a satchel of gold and solve one personï¿½s problems, but what of his own?

James dreams just as any other man does, be him beggar, commoner or noble. His life may have been one of privilege, but it has been a life dominated by his father. He cannot choose his life as others can. He must obey his royal duty, to which his opinions are subject. He looks at that beggar in the street and wonders what it would be like to walk around in his shoes, if only for a day.

The memories of his adolescent years were punctuated with hushed and harried conversations with his mother, all behind closed doors.

'I don't want to be king,' James would say, confiding to his mother.

'It's who you are meant to be.'

'What if I donï¿½t want to be king?'

The Queen tried her hardest to calm him. 'You can't choose.'

'What if I can't do it?'

'It's in your blood - it's your duty.'

'Hang my duty,' James said, just as his father barged into the room, having heard everything. The king was less understanding and patient upon learning of these confiding sessions.

Every move, every glance, every whisper was monitored either by his father or his father's staff. Further confessions on James' part did not go unreported, for while James was a smart boy, he refused to have his opinions quietened by mere threats of disownment. The disciplinary actions his father thought prudent did not worry him. He wasn't lashed and he wasn't beaten - he was confined to his comfortable chambers for any amount of days, receiving three meals a day and fresh clothes.

James' parents thought him to be disillusioned about his life. For all her sympathy, James' mother agreed with her husband. James _was_ free. He had many more freedoms than half of the village combined. And so was the design of his temporary imprisonments: to teach him that he _was_ free, and he _could_ make choices.

Only, James was yet to realise where his boundaries lay. The extent of his freedom should have been revealed to him during his confinement, only it wasn't. His opinions and longings should have been curbed, but instead of succeeding, they gave way to a whole host thoughts and feelings he couldn't contain.

His mother visited him everyday, often with news from his closest friends. James would ask frequently when he would be allowed out of his chambers without putting his life in 'great risk', as he had come to call it. His mother would answer that she wasn't sure how much longer he would be in confinement, and encourage him to see things from his father's point of view.

'It's also difficult on him, James. Try to understand - he _needs_ to know that you'll be ready.'

'I'll never be ready,' was James' sullen response. He wanted to be like other men his age in the village. The greatest threat to their existences was the possibility that they wouldn't inherit their fathers' fortunes, or if they would remain bachelors for the rest of their lives and thus bring shame and humiliation to their family name. James just wanted to worry about the growing size of his account payable at the tavern, not the risks involved with Muggle and Wizard-kind living as one.

'What of my wand?' James asked. 'Will I get that back?'

His mother would always purse her lips at this question. She carried his wand with her at all times, but he wasn't to know that. 'It's in a very safe place, James.'

'He threatened to snap it,' said James, concerned. His mother noted that he had more compassion for his wand than he did the people he was to rule over one day.

'Magic is a privilege, remember that. Perhaps being without your wand for a time may be a good thing. It may teach you to keep it in your pocket, rather than flashing it about at every chance you get.'

James would feel frustrated at this point. Even his mother was starting to turn against him. 'I'm a wizard, Mother. Wizards use wands.'

'Do you wish to be locked away for the rest of your life, should you use your wand in front of a Muggle?' his mother would respond, and James would let the subject go. Rarely did the queen lose her control or let herself become hysterical. If anything, that was what brought the message home for James. He promised her that the next time he drew his wand, he would think twice about it.

'Yes, yes,' muttered James, somewhat defeated. 'For you, Mother. I'll behave.'

And so James was released from his temporary prison after an eternity-filled week, on the premise that his sullen behaviour would cease, the wand would only be used when necessary, and he would begin to take a more active role in the village. James was readily agreeable to all conditions. It was a Saturday night, and from the whisperings he'd heard from the servants in the castle, something of a gathering was forming down in the village. If he could be sure of anything, it was that his closest friend would be there.

James found himself itching to mingle with society again outside the castle walls, after during a tense dinner with his parents. Having come to a peace treaty, none at the table wished to rock the already shaky boat, preferring to eat in silence.

The king sat at the head of the table, his wife and his son seated on either side of him. James did not even look away from his plate. While still bitter towards his father, he knew it best not to provoke him. His thoughts were again down in the village, wondering what the gathering was for and if he would miss it.

Somewhere between the main meal and pudding, the king had started talking again, disrupting James' brilliant plan of escape.

'I believe arrangements are under way for your birthday celebrations, James,' said the king. When James finally raised his head, he realised that his father didn't appear to look at him. Rather, he seemed to look _through_ him.

James nodded slowly, biting away softly at the inside of his lip. He knew there was no real advantage to be gained by arguing this particular point. A quick glance at his mother confirmed that she may have been sympathetic to his cause, but chances were slim that she would disagree with her husband.

James remembered his truce with his father, and his pledge towards some semblance of peace. He asked quietly if the celebrations were necessary.

The king's goblet returned to the table with a loud clang. 'You know perfectly well that it is! It is the _law!'_

'As I have read numerous times,' said James. 'All at your insistence.'

'The laws are clear. By the age of one and twenty, the heir must-'

'I'm aware, Father.'

'Then your awareness should also extend to the tradition that unmarried princes have to fulfil on this birthday!' said the king quickly, his face turning red as he gulped at the air.

James knew this was coming; he knew that he would soon be forced to marry. It was either that, or he would have to relinquish his claim on the throne. He had known this for some months now, and he had given serious thought to simply refusing his legacy. The main disadvantage of such course of action was that as an only child, James could not pass the duty on to a younger sibling.

It meant one thing: James had to marry to keep his family's royal status, or the highest noble family would gain control of the kingdom. James' stomach gave an unwelcome twist when he remembered exactly which family was next in line.

James put down his goblet, and turned to his father. 'Did Lord Malfoy visit you today, by any chance?' It was a controlled effort not to allow mockery or contempt in his voice. 'It seems rather coincidental that you release me only to bring up this topic of conversation.'

'As a matter of fact, Malfoy did happen to dine with me earlier today.'

The king assessed his son with eyes that clouded his approval. The fact that James had noticed the outside threat without any guidance or indication from him showed that James possessed an intelligence and astuteness that many people did not.

'Why am I not surprised?' James muttered into his goblet.

'Lord Malfoy was kind enough to remind me that you must announce your choice of bride before the stroke of midnight.'

'Have you given thought to who you would wish to marry, James?' the queen asked.

'I cannot honestly say that I have,' said James.

'Just as I expected!' said the king, banging a confident hand against the table. 'You will find a young lass of noble blood in three weeks, or I shall choose your bride for you!

'And which family have you threatened this time, Father?' James retorted, without thinking. His precious self-control was ebbing away from him, just as the colour was ebbing from his father's face.

'I will not tolerate disrespect from my own son!' the king thundered, leaning heavily on the table. 'You are a royal! You have duties! It's high time you realised that! Has the last week taught you _nothing_?'

'Your father and I agree that Lady Elizabeth would make a suitable wife,' the queen said tentatively, but James was on his feet.

'Please excuse me. Thank you for your company, Mother. Father,' James nodded in his father's direction before stalking out of the dining hall, his feet carrying him without aid from his mind.

Out in the cool night air, James tried to calm himself down. He'd very nearly lost his temper with his parents only hours after promising his mother he would change. But the fact of the matter was that he was too angry to change. To make it all the more annoying on his part, James couldn't figure what part he was more angry about: his being forced to choose a wife, or his not loving the woman who was the only candidate.

_'Your father and I agree that Lady Elizabeth would make a suitable wife...'_

Oh yes, thought James. Lady Elizabeth would be the picture of a perfect wife. She would be gracious, charming, caring, loyal - everything a wife and queen should be.

He was soon walking in step with one of his closest friends without realising it. He'd made his way into the orchard running along the palace wall, which usually meant that Sirius Black had been sitting atop the wall, watching people as they walked by below him.

'Out of gaol, I see,' said Sirius, biting into the apple he'd plucked from a low branch.

James grunted. 'And loving life much better for it.'

'Once again, you amaze me with your incredible wit and sarcasm,' answered Sirius.

'What are you doing here?' James asked, raising a questioning eyebrow as Sirius plucked another apple from a branch and put it in his hat.

'I was told that you were in the grounds somewhere, and I have come to tempt you into a midnight run.'

'We're not going back over to the Malfoys, Sirius,' grunted James. 'Not after the last time.'

'But _sire_ , Master Snivellus is visiting!' Sirius said earnestly, his eyes sparking mischievously.

'I don't care what Malfoy and Snape are up to; I don't want to be anywhere near them.'

'If I may say so, His Royal Highness has his royal panties in a royal twist this evening.'

'Sirius,' warned James.

'Forgive me, sire, I was merely expressing my concern for you,' Sirius drawled, bending his tall frame in a mock-bow.

'I just don't want to be anywhere near Malfoy, or his son for that matter. They anger me enough as it is. I'd do almost anything to stop them from ruling.'

'What's this, Prince James is actually contemplating life as our fearless leader?' said Sirius, somewhat surprised.

'You are aware that I could have you killed for that?'

'Then I am eternally grateful His Highness is not of the killing nature,' Sirius replied. He was not afraid of James, nor was he afraid of James' position. They had been friends since childhood, and despite his baiting James, Sirius also knew that deep down, James had accepted his duty to be king. He knew that James grudgingly respected his father and loved his mother too much to let them down.

They continued to walk in silence, until James said darkly, 'Father insists I announce my bride during my birthday celebration.'

Sirius was well aware of James' situation and the implication of his kingdom's laws. He had been with James the first time he'd read that particular piece in the archives. 'And who is the lucky bride-to-be?'

'If I cannot choose for myself, Mother and Father have decided that I shall marry Elizabeth.'

'The delightful Lady Elizabeth,' Sirius said, letting out a low whistle. 'Surely it wouldn't be as terrible as you are making it out to be.'

'We're friends, Sirius,' James said, speaking slowly through gritted teeth. 'It'd be the same as you marrying her. Who could willingly do that to a girl like Elizabeth?'

'So you have no desire in helping the lovely Lady Elizabeth become a princess any time soon?' asked Sirius, walking alongside James, no amusement in his voice for the first time that night.

'Not likely,' James moaned. 'It would just be too awkward. In fact, it would be horrible.'

'Yes, how dreadful it would be to marry the most beautiful girl in the kingdom,' Sirius remarked dryly, rolling his eyes. 'Many a man would perish at the thought.'

'It's not as easy as that,' said James.

'I know,' said Sirius, placating James somewhat. 'But what I propose is this: we make the journey down to the village and meet some nice young maidens - for acquaintance purposes only, of course. Mine will be able to bring drinks until dawn, and yours will help to take your mind off things, dazzling you with her amazing intellectual abilities. Who knows? Maybe she'll become a princess by summer's end!'

Sirius grinned at James, his eyes dancing as his tongue-in-cheek comment washed over his friend. James looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit the devious man before him.

'Sure, and Malfoy might just become my best friend!' retorted James, smiling sardonically at Sirius.

'Has to be better than Snape, right?' Sirius laughed, practically skipping ahead. 'Come along now, don't dally! A night of merriment and amusement awaits us!'

&&&

_Satirise_

 

 


	2. Worldly Advice

**\- Chapter Two:  Worldly Advice -**  

Children were dancing around the bonfire, anxious mothers watching from the sidelines. Fathers were roaring with laughter over pints of mead. Congregating by the church were dignified ladies, sharing town gossip and striking sophisticated poses for the benefit of the available noblemen.

Everyone appeared to be having a good time - or at least, Lily hoped so. She had helped the church organise the bonfire, and was glad to see the children in such high spirits. She smiled when a small boy ran up to his mother and tugged at her voluminous skirts.

Look at my marshmallow!ï¿½ he said, and grinned toothily up at his mother.

Lily laughed when the marshmallow fell off its toasting stick and onto the mother's top skirt, much to the horror of the little boy's mother. The boy must have sensed his mother's frustration, for he dropped his stick and ran over to the other children.

Town politics were on fine display that night, Lily noted.

She stood with neither the anxious mothers nor the noble women. She didn't belong to stand alongside either group; they were outside her rank and were to be regarded with the respect their station commanded.

At any rate, Lily was somewhat afraid of these women - they had a way of making her feel uncomfortable and small. She preferred to stay on the outskirts of the market square, watching from her post under an apple tree.

As a child ran by, a mother's hand would shoot out and grab her offspring. She would then smooth her daughter's skirts out, or lick her thumb before rubbing at her son's dirty cheek. A silent competition was raging between the mothers as to whose son had grown the fastest, or whose daughter was the fairest.

Lily found this competition neither surprising nor pathetic. She thought it to be natural, and wondered if she were to have children, would she have participated, too? She hoped so; she wanted to be a mother who made her children feel special.

However, she also wanted to be able to tell her children that she didn't trap their father into marriage, which rather summed up her opinion on another competition on the other side of the market square.

If there were a term to give _this_ particular competition, Lily would have labelled it a War of Desperation, or, more simply, a catfight.

Word had just come from the palace that Prince James and Lord Black's eldest son were on their way to the village. The commotion this news had caused for the unsettled noble women!

Skirts were being adjusted, hair was being pinned and cheeks were being pinched. And it was all for the attention of the prince and his faithful companion! thought Lily.

She could obviously understand why _they_ were getting themselves into a flap, but saw no reason for _her_ to do any last minute primping for the prince. She was sure to go unnoticed, as she largely had that night.

This didn't upset Lily - sometimes it did, as it was sure to; being a daughter of a commoner didn't allow for much extravagance. But tonight it didn't bother her in the slightest. Being on the outer gave her an opportunity to see people without any facades, and she was more interested to see how the town folk would act when a royal was in their midst.

Lily leaned against the tree and picked herself an apple. She was about to bite into it, when Lord Black's son, Sirius, waltzed into the market square. He was alone, and while this was a disappointment for the single women at first, they soon recovered to appreciate Sirius' company.

Lily's apple was suddenly sour in her mouth. She didn't know why, but seeing Sirius Black being swooned over unabashedly made her stomach churn. The ladies, so gracefully poised only moments before, turned into hissing cats just to get a glance from the handsome bachelor.

'Oh, Lord. Surely they're embarrassed over how they're acting!' murmured Lily. 'And look at Mr Black! He's acting like a swine!'

Sirius Black had made a beeline for the refreshments table by the tavern, where he swiftly drank a tankard of mead before reaching for another.

'If that's the company the prince keeps, he can't be nothing more than a lout himself!' Lily continued.

She glanced down at her barely touched apple and frowned. She had no interest in it now, and threw it over her shoulder, expecting it to land in the bushes behind her. Only -

'Do watch where you're throwing things!' came a disgruntled voice.

Lily's breath hitched in her throat as she turned around. Prince James was standing behind her.

'That is certainly no way for a lady to speak,' the prince continued, still wiping apple from his eye.

Humiliation overcame Lily, and she vaguely opened and closed her mouth. She couldn't speak, she just _stood_ and _gawked_ at the poor man, her wide eyes blinking, her mouth unspeaking.

It wasn't until the prince made a small gesture with his shoulder, did Lily recoup a little of her sense. She clumsily bent down in a bow at the prince's feet. 'Your Highness, forgive me, please. I did not mean to -'

'I'm sure your fine choice of words weren't meant to be overhead,' the prince interrupted.

'I was in no position to comment. I offer my deepest apologies, Your Highness.'

With her head still at ground level, Lily was unable to determine the prince's reaction to her slander. She started to tremble; the prince could have her imprisoned - at the very least - for this.

Prince James, however, was thinking of no such measure. Rather, he took the opportunity to look at the girl before him. The manner in which she was bowing told him that she was a commoner.

'Tell me, who is your father?' the prince demanded.

He noticed a slight squirm from the girl, and wondered why she wasn't answering him. He was not used to waiting. He guessed, however, that in her silence, she was trying to protect her father. Unable to say that he would have done the same thing, he found her gesture to be admirable. 'I assure you, I will not penalise your father for your actions.'

'May I have your word on that, Your Highness?' said Lily, her cunning surprising even herself.

'Upon my word as a gentleman, said the prince.

Lily was thinking very quickly. On one hand, he had given her a gentleman's promise, but on the other hand, Lily had to wonder if a gentleman's promise meant anything to royalty. Either way, she had no alternative in the matter. 'My father is the merchant Patrick. He supplies the village with fresh fruit and vegetables.'

Even while bowing, the prince could see the squaring of her shoulders, the proud angling of her head.

'You may stand,' said the prince, almost as though he was bored. 'I find it ridiculous to talk to your head.'

As Lily stood, she braced herself for some sort of punishment - be it a strike from the hand of the prince, or a blow to her family's prospects. Both were sure to harm her.

The prince said nothing; he only looked at Lily as though she were a puzzle with a missing piece. He was rather shocked to see contempt, presumably for himself, written in the very pores of her skin.

'You hate me, don't you?' said the prince.

'Forgive me, but you are wrong, Your Highness. I do not hate you. I could never hate someone I didn't know.'

'Yet you could denounce their person? That's interesting, I must say. You do not hate me, yet you speak most viciously of my friend and myself.'

'It was a foolish thing to say, and I offer my deepest apologies.'

James continued to look at the girl before him. He knew that she was not like any other in his acquaintance. Despite her words, he could tell that she did not particularly mean them. He put this down to her loyalty to her family, and her desire to protect them.

'Very well,' said the prince. 'I will disturb you no longer. Enjoy the rest of your night.'

'Thank you, Your Highness,' said Lily, starting to back away from the prince. She felt like she needed to shout out, and she didn't particularly want to do so in front of _him._

'I suspect I'll see you in the village,' said the prince. As he walked away, he threw over his shoulder, 'Unless, of course, it is too great a burden to be near a lout such as myself.'

&&&

James paced the length of his bedchambers, confused by his encounter with the girl. He knew two things about her: one, she was a commoner - a merchant's daughter, she had told him; and two, she detested him.

Who she was and why she was so ready to dislike him was something of a mystery to James. He hadn't spoken harshly to her - he'd never seen her before now, he was sure of it. Perhaps she had had some sort of previous connection to Sirius. Knowing Sirius, he wouldn't be at all surprised if the girl had been on the receiving end of one of Sirius' schemes. If that was the case, he wasn't as innocent as he thought himself to be. As his mentor had once said, 'One rarely goes anywhere without the other - find one and you find the other.'

James's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone to call on him, particularly at this time of the night. It was something of an anticlimax when he realised it was his mother at his doorway, a pleasant and calm look about her.

'Mother,' he said, taking her hand. 'What brings you here?'

'Oh, nothing of importance,' she replied serenely. 'I was just wondering if you had time to humour me.'

James shouldn't have been surprised. He was not a child, but his relationship with his mother was one to which he paid particular care. She would often call on him, if only to ask how his day had been. They would talk for hours about many things, and she was always sure to bring him back in line if she thought he was becoming too troublesome. After his performance at dinner, he wondered if this meeting was to remind him of his truce with the king.

The queen walked over to the fireplace and ran a finger along the mantle. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, 'I'll have to talk to your servant, James. This room is nothing short of appalling.'

'Come now, I assume you are here to talk about more than the state of my living quarters.'

'You remind me so much of your father,' she said, slowly walking toward him. 'Calculated and temperamental are the traits most apparent, I believe.'

'Father and I have very few likenesses, and surely if he were as bad as I'm made to be, you wouldn't have married him,' James said, holding the small hands placed in his own.

'Don't be so sure of that, my dear,' the queen replied. 'Your father was not always the king. He was once a young boy, too.'

For the sake of not arguing, James didn't reply. 'How can I help you, Mother?'

The queen sat by the window and gazed down into the village.

Following her line of vision, James saw that she was smiling softly, almost wistfully, at the children as they danced around the great bonfire.

'Have you ever stopped to just watch them?' she asked quietly.

James sat by his mother. He replied, 'Not really. I hardly make time for such things.'

'Perhaps you should,' the queen said. 'Without the people down there, we wouldn't be up here.'

James made something of a grunt in his throat, not exactly sure of what his mother was saying.

'We are only as good as the next person, be they noble or common,' she sighed.' 'If I could teach you but one thing, that would be it. Always remember that, and you will find your lot in life much easier.'

James looked at his mother out of the corner of his eye. Olivia Wyatt's marriage to Prince William had been an arranged affair - his parents would not settle for another bride. Olivia was the eldest daughter of Marcus Wyatt; the union of the eldest daughter of the kingdom's richest nobleman to the heir apparent was expected. James had to wonder why it was that his mother could preach to him the values of morality, when she had led such a privileged life. When had she encountered adversity that allowed her to speak of such principles? James had always known his mother to be a compassionate woman, although he wasn't sure if that was the extent of it.

They sat staring at the village for some while, unspeaking. When the church's bell struck the hour, the queen rose and left, but James remained where he was.ï¿½ He was watching the villagers, just as his mother had suggested he do.

&&&

_Satirise._


End file.
